Wings Of Steel
by JonBarretta
Summary: A 'CowboyBebopGunslingerBerserkFinalFantasyMyOwnStories' Crossover
1. Introduction

*INTRODUCTION*  
  
Well, I guess this'll be fun. Either that, or it'll be a living hell. Anyway the wind blows, it's gonna be a good   
  
story. I mean, how could it not be? Final Fantasy, The Gunslinger, Cowboy Bebop, and Berserk, in addition to   
  
some custom characters... all in ONE story? Sounds good to me. But, before I start, I've got a couple things to   
  
say:  
  
Number one: While I'm writing these chapters, I'll be listening to music. It always helps me write. So, don't   
  
get mad and call me unoriginal if there are some song quotes in the text, song titles for chapter titles, or even   
  
entire chapters loosely based on one song. It's just something I throw in there to keep myself going. Music   
  
gives me insparation, so most of my stories are done while listening to a good CD. Man... I'm starting to   
  
repeat myself... : P  
  
Number two: I have a very... let's say 'original' writing style. While I try to keep typos and spelling errors at   
  
bay, I don't usually do this with convention. I take alot of Poetic License in my writing. Also, I use alot of   
  
sentence fragments. I don't like commas. Never have(And I think the feeling is mutual). See? I did it again   
  
right there.  
  
Numero tre's(I don't know how else to spell it): Rarely, but occasionally, I might stick a movie or anime quote   
  
in the mix somewhere. Don't yell at me, I'm just trying to spice up the dialouge.  
  
Finnally: All my writing is best taken in while listening to music. Otherwise, it's kinda overdone and mediocre.  
  
For example: The ending to this book is, when read without good music, is melodramatic crap. But, while   
  
listening to Sevendust's "Seperate"(As I did when I thought of it), it's a modern-day masterpeice. So, do   
  
yourself a favor. Before you start reading: Pop in some Linkin Park, some Disturbed, maybe even some Slayer.   
  
Trust me. You'll thank me later.  
  
This whole thing is being written for one person. This person inspired me and helped me discover the meaning   
  
of life. This person alone helped me discover my true potential. This person is my brother.  
  
FOR JAMIE  
  
************************************************************************************ 


	2. WhenItCuts

CHAPTER1-WhenItCuts  
  
Lonely Hearts Tavern was a place of sadness. Many years ago, it had been the most popular bar in town. Then,   
  
after the war, the rest of the town was demolished. The soldiers kept the tavern standing, if only because it had   
  
the best drinks within 500 miles. As of now, it had the only drinks within 500 miles.  
  
Sara Taylor stood outside, back to the door, wind blowing her soft blonde hair every-which way. Cold tears  
  
stood out on her pale cheeks, slowly drifting their way down her liquid paper face. This place was heaven for   
  
many.  
  
It was Hell for her.  
  
The outside of the tavern was solid concrete. No bricks, no wood, no paint. Just hard, scratchy, grey stone, contrasting strongly with the light-brown sand below it. A poor excuse for a sign half-hung, half-swung from   
  
the gutters on top.  
  
The thing that stood out, though, was the door. Bright red. Like a drop of blood in a sea of gravel. About 3 years   
  
ago, some dumbass had carved 'LeAve THiS placE' on the front. Right at eye level, too. And if that didn't scare   
  
the customers away, the bullet holes would.  
  
Anyway, let's get back to the girl, shall we?  
  
Sara's life was a wreck. 2 years ago, a man had come to this bar asking for a bottle of whiskey. Being the bartender, she happily obliged. Now, she wished with all her broken mind that she hadn't.  
  
He said his name was Jon. But the folks at the bar had called him 'Dragon'. To this day, she never knew why. It drove him crazy.  
  
One fateful night, everything exploded in her face. It was maybe... a half a year after he had first appeared at   
  
the bar. She had just finished the night, and was making her way up to her room on the top floor. Then the door opened.  
  
At first she didn't notice him, just shrugging it off as the wind. But, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was Ka like the wind, she felt an uncontrollable urge to stop and look. And so she did.  
  
And what she saw scared the fuck out of her.  
  
Jon was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He had never made a sound. He never even screamed   
  
for her. And as she rushed to help him, she found out why.  
  
He had a hole the size of a sand dollar in his neck. And I don't mean a gash, or a deep fleshwound. A hole. A   
  
hollow hole. She could see through his throat.  
  
Immediately, and without a word, she picked him off the ground, sitting him at the closest table. She ran behind   
  
the bar to find some bandages. When she returned, he was crying. But no, he wasn't crying. He was bleeding out   
  
of his eyes. But no... he was crying. He was crying crimson tears of sorrow.  
  
She finished wrapping his neck in bandages. She placed her arms around his waist. She carried him up to her bedroom. She dropped him on the bed(He was barely concious from all the pain).  
  
Without a word, she stripped herself of her clothing. That night, they laid together.  
  
The next morning, she found him dead at the bar, where he'd always said he wanted to die.  
  
Since that night, her life had been shit. Thoughts of what could have been plagued her mind every waking   
  
moment of her pathetic existence. Noone was left to protect her(He considered that his job; he never said why),   
  
and so she was little more than a helpless whore.  
  
But all that, was about to change. Maybe not for the better, but it would change. 


	3. TheStranger

CHAPTER2-TheStranger  
  
One horrible day, everything got even worse than it already was.  
  
Sara looked up as he walked into the bar. 'Huh, a new guy,' She thought, 'Hope he's interesting. It been pretty boring around here lately.'  
  
He was tall, no dought about it. He must have stood at least 6'4". He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, nothing   
  
out of the ordinary. He didn't look very dangerous... then agian, looks can be deceiving. Sara was used to his   
  
kind. In fact, she rather liked his kind. Quiet, gentle, strong. They were never the ones who started fights, they   
  
only finished them. She thought that this guy might just take a seat, order a drink, and keep to himself.  
  
How wrong she was.  
  
As the Stranger started toward the bar, Sara got some strange feeling deep inside her chest. Some strange   
  
feeling... of deja vu. This had happened before. The Stranger sat down on the stool directly in front of her. He reminded her of...  
  
"Don't see such beautiful women behind a bar everyday. How's about a wiskey sweet-cheeks?"  
  
The Dragon. She had to ask. She didn't know why, but she just had to ask. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it   
  
was...  
  
"What's your name, stranger?"  
  
"My name? It's Spike."  
  
Ka like the wind. 


	4. SunDoesn'tRise

CHAPTER3-SunDoesn'tRise  
  
"What's wrong? Am I gonna get my drink anytime soon?"  
  
Sara was staring. There was just something about this one... "Oops! Sorry about that... it'll be a second, 'kay?"  
  
Spike chuckled at this. "A little sleepy, aren't we? What were you doing last night?"  
  
Sara blushed like an atom bomb went off in both cheeks. He was charming, but she couldn't let her guard down.   
  
No telling what kind of weirdo he might be.  
  
She handed him the whiskey with a smile. "No... just a little out of it today."  
  
"Why do ya think that is?"  
  
"I... I dunno. Hungover, maybe." It was a lie. She hadn't drunk a single drop the previous night. She didn't know why she felt this way. Maybe it was just that he had started her thinking about Jon.  
  
"Yeah, that's what you get for being a bartender." Spike made a chugging motion with his hand. It actually made   
  
her laugh a little. She hadn't laughed in a long, long time. Sara was taking a liking to this guy.  
  
She turned to the sink, and when she turned back, he was already on the other side of the bar. Damn. She was just starting to have her first nice conversation in years. 'Whatever,' She thought, 'Probably a rapist anyway.'  
  
Right then, the door opened. Sara looked up just in time to spot a giant.  
  
The guy must've been at least 7 feet tall. Built like a bull, too. Crushed nose, little beady eyes, looked   
  
like a bulldog on steroids. His long blonde hair hung in his eyes, covering them slightly. But you could still tell   
  
that he was an ugly sonofabitch, no matter how much shit he covered his face with. She was too busy looking at   
  
it to even notice the gargantuan blade slung across his back. If she had, she would have cowered in fear. She had only a little more time to observe him, and then he was in front of her, hands on the bartop, a huge grin slapped on his disgusting head.  
  
"I see ya'll lookin' darlin," He grabbed her arm with not-really-that-suprising strength, "I know you want some of this..."  
  
She'd experienced this a million times before, but never like this. This guy was fucking HUGE! She had a feeling that a taser wouldn't do it this time. Hell, she would try anyway. In a flash, she had grabbed the weapon out from behind the bar, and was swinging it at his face.  
  
He caught her hand. The motherfucker caught her hand.  
  
"Aww... playin' hard ta git, eh? Ain't gon do ya any good... I know you want this." He slid her weaponless hand toward his crotch. Shit, this had never happened. Well, she could bear it. Fighting it only made it worse. Then she saw the hand grasp his shoulder.  
  
"Hey cowboy," It was Spike! He had actually come to help her? "Why don't you let go of the pretty lady's hand,   
  
and let her serve drinks in peace?"  
  
She barely saw him move. And before anyone knew it, the Giant was standing with Spike's gun pressed up   
  
against his temple. Sara couldn't help but smile.  
  
"Boy-" The Giant began, but Spike cut him off.  
  
"I don't think you should be using that tone with me. It's quite stupid. Just ask anyone in here!"  
  
"You scrawny little maggot..."  
  
"I guess you really wanna die. What's the matter?" Spike had a giant smile on his face, "Daddy didn't hug you? Suicide isn't good for your health...."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Really?" That smile was growing bigger with every word, "I think there's something that you failed to realize friend..." Spike cocked the pistol, "You're the one who's fucked."  
  
The Bulldog made his move, reaching for the gun hanging from his belt. He didn't even get to touch it.  
  
There was a bang, then a resounding thud as his body hit the floor. Spike looked up, and his eyes met hers. There was a long silence before he spoke.  
  
"Think he'll be alright?"  
  
Sara smiled, "I think we've lost him. You wanna try CPR, be my guest."  
  
"On that hideous bastard? Hell, no."  
  
They both laughed. Ka like the wind had become Ka like a bullet, and it was flying straight for her. 


	5. DejaVu

CHAPTER4-DejaVu  
  
Weeks past, and everyday Spike came by the bar. Everyday, it was whiskey. Everyday, it was charm and elegence. Everyday, it was compliments and jokes. Sara Taylor was happy. God help her, she was happy. And for a while, it seemed like nothing could take that away.  
  
She had this horrible nack at getting things wrong.  
  
That day, Spike was late. He usually got to the bar at 9:00 flat, never late, never early. She was actually starting to look forward to his arrival. It brought a sort of... euphoric feeling. It was like he was a drug, one she couldn't live without.  
  
It was already 10:00, and he still hadn't arrived. Sara didn't know why, but she was starting to get nervous. It was actually starting to scare her.  
  
At 11:00, Spike finally arrived. But it wasn't a normal arrival. Far from it, in fact.  
  
She was finally closing up, tired of waiting for him. She forgot to lock the door, like usual, and started the walk up to her bed.  
  
And then the door opened.  
  
Spike wasn't laying down, but instead he was sitting against the door, a stain of blood streaked down the bright wood behind him. He had a bullet hole in his abdomen.  
  
She ran to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. She picked him up, walking him up the stairs to her room. She put him down on the bed. She bandaged his torso accordingly. And without a word, she stripped her clothing off.  
  
They laid together that night. And the next morning, she awoke to find him...  
  
Alive. Gloriously alive, and laying right next to her.  
  
Still, that one was too close for comfort. And the Ka Bullet was getting ever so much closer. 


End file.
